Mallorn Gold
by rayemars
Summary: Legolas. Trees. Angst. And a love story.
1. Gold

Disclaimer: All things pertaining to the "Lord of the Rings" belong to Tolkien.

This is mostly drawn from the book universe, where the Fellowship spent several days in Lothlorien, and Legolas and Gimli spent a lot of time wandering in the woods.

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Legolas smiled faintly as Gimli attempted civility towards yet more Lorien elves who had crossed their path. The dwarf, despite his continuing ire at having been blindfolded, was still striving to be respectful towards their hosts. This attempt no doubt had been greatly strengthened by his love for the Lady Galadriel.

They took their leave of the group, and continued to wander among the trees.

Gimli gave him a curious glance. "Are you well, Master Elf? I fear I was more courteous to your brethren than you."

Legolas turned, startled out of his thoughts. "Nay, Master Dwarf, I am well. I am simply thinking."

Gimli nodded slowly as they meandered through the forest of Lothlorien. "You have been thinking for many a day, Master Elf. Something troubles you deeply--all see it."

Legolas straightened fractionally and considered a denial, but ceased before the reply crossed his lips. For the concern in Gimli's eyes, rough though it might be, was nonetheless genuine. "Yes," he acknowledged, and said no more.

The two walked in silence a time longer, until they crossed into a grove of mallorn. Gimli paused in wonderment of the splendor, but even the beauty of the trees of Valinor could not lift Legolas' spirits. Instead, the reminder of the West and the origin of the Firstborn pained him deeper, reminding him of the Counting Tale from his youth.

"These are strange days indeed," Gimli said, "that I should feel the need to say that there is such beauty in the world as could not be found in caverns or mines."

Legolas cheered slightly at the dwarf's awestruck confession. He touched briefly a golden leaf as they continued through. "And it is strange that I should hear and believe it."

Gimli stared up at a tall, stately tree that had grown since the beginning of the Second Age. "Such are the days we live in. The world is changing."

Legolas gazed curiously at Gimli. He had never known the dwarf to wax poetical before.

"In this new world to come, I would have to wonder if the old ways and customs would change. Even for the immortal Elves."

Legolas came to realize that Gimli, in his own way, was tactfully trying to broach the subject that had been weighing him under since the Company's departure from Imladris. "Some things never change, Master Dwarf. Especially not to those who have seen all the ages pass," he said, recalling that Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of these woods were two such people. "Some urges remain ever dark and improper."

"A time ago I should have agreed with you, Master Elf." Gimli's eyes grew dark and faraway. "The doors of Moria are for ever tainted by the shame of Narvi and Celebrimbor, or so I once believed." The very name of Moria reopened fresh wounds, and both elf and dwarf paused in grief. Then Gimli smiled and turned his gaze to the city within Lorien, where the Golden Lady resided. "But I fear I have fallen in love with the Lady of the Wood, and I find no shame or sign of Darkness within that."

Legolas thought upon his words and saw the wisdom in them, but they did his heart little good. "You speak fairly and sagely, Master Dwarf," he said.

"And yet my words lend no aid," Gimli finished. They paused again, the mallorn grove glowing in the distance behind them. He gave the elf a long look. "One cannot choose where to love, Legolas. Love comes and claims for its own, sometimes without consideration of the partners."

"'Tis folly enough to love a mortal," Legolas whispered, staring away at the golden glow. "This is a shame not seen since the time of Fingon and Maedhros. All should have taken warning from their ending of despair and death."

Gimli watched the elf with empathy. They each loved one who was bound to another, but he it seemed fared better in his fate. "I know no more to say in comfort," he admitted. "But be wary, Legolas, lest grief take you. You are a good companion," he said more gruffly, remembering he was a Dwarf and made of stiffer, darker stuff than the effervescent Elves, "and 'twould be a sorrow to lose you."

The elf might have smiled then. If so, it would be the first time that Gimli could recall him doing such since the ending of the Council. "Thank you, Gimli," Legolas said at last. "It seems Dwarvish eyes are far keener than I had believed them to be."

"'Tis easy to see keenly, when one stands on equal ground," Gimli answered. 

Farther back in the forest there came to Legolas' ears the sound of footsteps approaching. At his glance, Gimli eyed the direction of the noise. "More elves," he muttered into his beard.

"Does our presence vex you, Master Dwarf?" Legolas asked.

"Nay," Gimli shook his head, "but I fear I am beginning to develop a crick in my neck from gazing ever upwards."

Legolas laughed aloud. "Doubtless I shall soon say the same of looking down!"

Gimli hrumped and turned to face the newcomers.

As the soft footfalls drew nearer, Legolas realized only one was advancing, and soon Aragorn emerged from the trees beyond into the mallorn grove.

Legolas' breath caught, and his joy of a moment ago faded as swiftly as the last ray of sunlight at evening. Beside him, Gimli straightened. 

"I believe I shall make my way back to camp now, with your leave, Master Elf," he said.

Legolas shot him a look as near to panic as Gimli had ever seen an elf be. Beyond the glow of the mallorns, Aragorn's gaze found them and he began to make his way forward. Then Legolas, seeming to understand Gimli's intent, composed himself. "Very well." He paused, watching Aragorn come within calling distance, yet hesitate, as if unsure whether he were welcome. Legolas turned to the dwarf. "Will you be able to find your way back?" he asked.

"If not, I am sure to come across a company of elves who can show me the way," Gimli answered wryly. He bowed. "Master Elf."

Legolas returned the bow, though out of the corner of his eye he was Aragorn's arrival. "Master Dwarf."

Aragorn came up to the two of them, and nodded a greeting. Gimli nodded back. "I am returning to the camp," he explained. "That way, forward, correct?" He indicated past the golden grove.

"Turn left at the statue near the bottom of the stairs," Aragorn reminded him.

"Right." Gimli departed, muttering under his beard against the mazes of the Wood Elves.

Aragorn watched him go, a hint of a smile upon his stern face. "If I did not know better, I would say that Gimli son of Gloin was enjoying his stay in the White Wood."

"He is," Legolas answered shortly, staring at the empty place in the grove. Beside him, Aragorn sighed. An uncomfortable silence lay between them.

Legolas wished greatly to escape this grave, responsible man who hurt him with his presence. Perhaps he was a coward in matters of the heart--so be it. "If you will pardon me, Aragorn, I wish to catch up with Gimli before he becomes utterly befuddled in these woods." He stepped away.

Aragorn stopped him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Legolas stiffened at the feel of the man's hand upon him and Aragorn, mistaking the response for tension, let his hand fall away.

"If you could spare me a few moments," he said, taking a step away, "I came out here to speak with you, Legolas."

Though the woods of Lorien were wide, the elf had never felt so caged, not even in the Mines of Moria.

Mithrandir....

The elf stared impassively at the man. "Yes?"

There was a pause as Aragorn seemed to gather his thoughts in order, and then he said, "I wish to make amends."

"Amends?" asked Legolas in confusion.

"Yes," Aragorn replied. "I would not see the Fellowship broken further, if such could be prevented."

Proper words from a man who would be King. "How have you felt you wronged me, Aragorn?" he asked.

The man paused, and stared at the mallorn grove beside them. The glow of the trees bathed his face in bronze, and Legolas' heart ached at the sight of such rugged and natural beauty before him.

"I do not know," he admitted, turning to Legolas with pain in his eyes. "You have been a friend to me since youth, Legolas, but of late you will not even meet my eyes. Whatever has caused this grief between us, I would fix it before we traveled further."

"Your dedication to the Company is admirable," Legolas said.

"I do have a duty to the Company now," Aragorn agreed, "but I miss your friendship no less."

The elf looked away in the face of this confession. He had not meant to cause the one he loved any pain, but only resist his unnatural desire. "You always have my friendship, Aragorn."

"You say that, Legolas, yet every day you travel further away from me," Aragorn replied. There was no sound but their breathing for long moments, and Legolas could feel the man's eyes upon him. The silence grew and filled the small glade. At last he turned and gazed at him.

Before Legolas could say anything, the golden light of the mallorns glinted off the mithril of the Evenstar. It reminded him that Aragorn was bound already to another, one whom he had loved longer than Legolas had known him. He had already broken a great taboo by loving another man, especially a mortal-even one as high as Aragorn son of Arathorn-and he would not add to that crime by presuming the love of one promised to love another. 

Raising his eyes from the pendant, he said, "I did not intend to distance myself from you. I have simply been otherwise occupied." There were times and places for confessions of love, good or ill as they might be, and in the midst of a quest to protect Arda, it was neither seeming nor proper to speak of desires such as these. Thus Legolas said nothing and instead faced the mallorns again, unable to look upon Aragorn again lest his feelings be know. For if two of the Noldor, who had seen and left the light of Valinor, could fall prey to the Darkness, one of the Silvan could surely fall farther.

And to bring down the future King with him...some crimes were unforgivable, even in the Hall of Mandos.

Aragorn watched his friend with sadness, unable to discern the cause of Legolas' sorrow. He turned his gaze with the elf's, staring at the mallorn grove. After a moment's reflection, he recalled that it had been here where he had seen Arwen Undomiel for the second time. The faintest smile of forgotten memories crossed his face, and he caressed the pendant of the Evenstar once with his thumb, before turning again to his silent and suffering friend. The loss of Gandalf weighed on them all, Legolas not the least, but his troubles had begun long before now.

The elf, a long friend and dear as one of the Dunedain to him, had been pleased enough to find him at Rivendell upon his arrival, though he traveled forth from Mirkwood with poor news--that Gollum whom Aragorn had tracked and captured, and brought forth with much weariness to the halls of Thranduil, had escaped. Treacherous news indeed, though it had brought them together once more; for now the Lorien elves claimed to see a creature akin to Gollum snuffing about the borders of the wood. These were ill tidings for the Ringbearer.

But ill news or no, Legolas had been glad to see him once more, and the feeling had been mutual. However, as the months wore on in Elrond's home, Legolas began to keep apart from the man, to speak only briefly with him. It were as though the elf disliked the thought of being alone with Aragorn, and avoided the possibility at all costs.

Strive as he might, Aragorn could find no cause for the sudden coldness between them. At last, after other attempts to engage the elf in conversation had been rebuffed over their journey, Aragorn decided he must simply apologize and attempt to bridge the gap, though he knew not what slight he had committed. The fate of the Fellowship, and of their friendship, relied upon it.

And now, though Legolas acknowledged the rift between them, he gave no cause for it. He did not understand.

Legolas bowed his head slightly, then straightened and faced the Ranger. "I did not mean to cause you any grief, Aragorn," he said. "I am weighed with cares, and I do not wish to burden you."

Aragorn placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. Legolas, rather than tensing, seemed to sink beneath his palm. "I would help you carry your burdens, friend."

An almost bitter smile swept across the elf's face. "Some things must be borne alone. Friend."

Aragorn watched him a moment longer, but the elf said nothing more. At last, he squeezed Legolas' shoulder and let his hand fall, accidentally caressing the elf's arm briefly. "If you need me, I am here," he said, unable to find better or more healing words. Another pause, and then he turned to go.

Legolas watched him move. It would be so easy, to grasp the man's arm, to step forward as those beautiful eyes met his again, and to press his lips against those he had so shamefully dreamed about. To caress this strong, rugged Man before him, so different in appearance and so alike in spirit. So easy....

To feel him pull away. To watch those eyes, filled with concern and friendship, turn to confusion and revulsion. Or at the very worst: to have him only a time, and then lose him to the affairs of Gondor and the need of a Queen. That would break his heart as surely as the call of the sea. 

Aragorn had undertaken this quest to win the hand of the one he loved--Legolas had had no such lofty intentions. 

He watched the line of the man's back as he began to walk away and said, "I love you."

The Dunedan stopped.

He turned to face the elf, and found him at last staring into his eyes.

To Legolas' surprise, the man's eyes held no disgust or reproach, only affection. "As I love you, Legolas. That is why it pains me to see you suffering."

The elf closed his eyes. His words had been misunderstood. The Valar had granted him this moment to risk friendship for love or lose possibility for certainty. 

He chose.

"Thank you, Aragorn," Legolas said. He stepped forward. "We should return to the camp and rest. The Ringbearer will soon need to leave these woods."

Despite their short lives, the hearts of Men were deep indeed if they were capable of loving so much and so vast. To have the love of Aragorn, even if it were not of the same as that which Legolas held for him, was the greatest he could expect and perhaps more than he deserved. That such a taint as his could find any return was difficult to imagine, and yet true.

Aragorn nodded, and with him began to pass through the mallorn grove and toward the camp.


	2. Mithril

Disclaimer: All things pertaining to The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

Since TTT played havoc with the Aragorn/Arwen theme, which in turn falsifies some of Legolas' thoughts in the first chapter, let's see if we can balance it all, eh?

Mainly movieverse, but not exactly, because I added conversation in the scene. Then again, it was partly filmed from Eowyn's view, so they might have been speaking quietly.  
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The Evenstar weighed upon him like a stone.  As he and Gimli followed the Rohan riders to Helm's Deep, he hid it within his tunic.  He could not bear to look upon the jewel--if there were a color of grief, he was certain it would be the soft silver-white of mithril.  Its very presence pained him; it spoke of the loss of Aragorn, the chance he had forsaken such a short time ago, and the suffering that Arwen Undomiel would have to bear when he at last came to the Undying Lands and returned her emblem.  He would not able to hold his sorrow close in the light of her own.

That such misery could be symbolized within such a small thing was a parallel that ached his heart.

Gimli traveled next him on a horse whose rider counted among the dozens dead, offering the silent comfort of the dwarves.  He was grateful, though he could draw no succor from it.  He rode behind the thinned ranks of the Rohirrim, Gimli stoically beside him, and felt the delicate chain of the Evenstar bite into his heart.

He had not known until the three of them were chasing the plains of Rohan in search of Merry and Pippin that Arwen had gone.  The mortals that made his companions had been forced to camp, despite the fact that every second of rest took the hobbits further and further away from them and closer into danger.  Part of him understood their need for rest, though he did not share it and ached to continue.

Gimli had fallen asleep as soon as he lay down, but Aragorn, though exhausted, had still seethed with Legolas' similar desire to be moving.  He was on watch, and had nodded to the man.

"Rest, Aragorn. Take an hour's peace and dream of your return to your Lady."

There was a brief silence and he had believed his advice was taken, before Aragorn spoke quietly.  "She has sailed."

His head had snapped to face the man, but Aragorn had already shut his eyes, wearied beyond measure.  So Legolas stood a silent watch as an hour crept by, taking the halflings nearer to the dangers of Saruman's tower.  As soon as there was light to travel, the others arose and they were racing again.

"Master Elf, we are here."  Gimli's voice interrupted his memories.  Legolas focused upon the world around them, and found himself staring down at Helm's Deep.  With a nod to Gimli, he nudged his horse down the hill towards the fortress.

If he had known earlier of Arwen's departure....If he had known earlier, would his decision in Lothlorien remain the same?  Gondor would forever need a Queen--there could be no joyful ending for him and Aragorn in the light of reality.  He would have lost the man to his birthright in the end, for he would not dream of keeping Aragorn son of Arathorn from that which he was born to be.

But that was lost now.  Aragorn was no more.  If he had known what would occur in such a short time, would he have taken the risk?

Legolas did not know.

As they rode into the Deep, he heard Gimli murmuring over the craftwork of the Rohan. Legolas let his bittersweet thoughts slip from his mind, freeing his eyes to view the Deep as they passed through.  Refugees of Rohan crowded the court, though they parted in order to allow the Rohirrim entrance.

Legolas took Gimli's bridle as the dwarf dismounted, leading both their horses to the stables.  He could not allow himself to sink into his thoughts and memories--there was still much to do.  But the Evenstar weighed him, making his movements slow.  He could choose his thoughts and actions, but he could stop his emotions; just as with love he bore, he could not prevent the fact that he grieved.

Hours later, the Lady Eowyn glided into the stable like a pale wraith, performing tasks that needed doing with a fierceness that reveal her intent to drown her loss in the sea of duty.  He did not speak to her--he could offer no comfort but a shared sorrow, and if he would reveal himself so much, he would rather do so to Arwen Undomiel.

A day or more passed, and though he was aware of working and speaking to others, he remembered little but the times spent in Gimli's company.  He found himself in the stables frequently, caring for the horses.  The Lady Eowyn was also there often, as well.  Perhaps some part of her sensed a similarity in the loved that bound him to Aragorn as it bound her, though in her words and actions she spoke of the Dunedan no more.

There had been a great clamor in the Deeping Keep, and Gimli had left to satisfy his curiosity.  Once the noise quieted Legolas turned briefly to see if the dwarf was returning with some news.

So many emotions swelled within him as he saw the familiar figure that all he could do was stand still.  Aragorn, dark and solemn as always, strode up the steps quickly, his manner urgent.

Legolas simply stood there as the man nearly walked into him.  Aragorn gave him a brief glance, and then stopped as he recognized Legolas' face.

He stared at the man, so much inside him that needed to be said, and so much that he could never speak.  He had chosen, for good or ill.

"You're late," he said in Elvish.

Aragorn stared at him.

He glanced up and down at the Dunedan--Aragorn's shoulder was bloody, his clothes ragged and dirty from the rocks and travel, and there was river silt dried into his hair.

"You look terrible," he added in the Common Tongue.

A moment later, Aragorn slowly grinned at him.  He embraced the elf, almost laughing, then pulled back a moment later.

Legolas wished to kiss him, to assure himself that breath **was passing through those lips and Aragorn was truly alive and standing before him.  Instead, he reached for the Evenstar and brought it out, placing it in Aragorn's hand like the treasure he knew the man considered it to be.**

Aragorn glanced down at his hand, then stared up at Legolas' eyes.  The elf smiled.

When Aragorn continued to stare, Legolas felt his smile falter.  In his joy to see the man alive, had he let his mask slip?  Had Aragorn glimpsed the truth, and now had little idea of how to proceed?

His answer came when Aragorn clasped his hand.  "Thank you, Legolas.  You are a true friend."

Legolas closed his eyes briefly, then gripped the hand around his and shook it silently.  "Your movements were urgent," he said a moment later.

Aragorn nodded.  "There is an army coming.  Where is King Theoden?"

Legolas stepped aside and indicated the way.  "I will find Gimli."

"Thank you," Aragorn said as he strode past, once more solemn and forbidding.

As he turned to find the dwarf, Legolas saw the Lady Eowyn standing to the side of the stable, watching Aragorn stride away with relief and sadness mingled on her face.  Why her gaze turned and settled on him, he gave a small nod of empathy and walked out.

Aragorn was alive, and returned to him, and he dared not ask the Valar for more.  The man's heart was forever open to Legolas, and Gimli, and the hobbits, and even Lady Eowyn.  The future king was capable of great love for many--but he offered his heart to only one, and Arwen Undomiel would possess it to the end of both their days.  Even though she had sailed, it was simply a part of Aragorn to continue to love her.

He had made his choice, and if it did not give him all that he dreamed of in the darkest parts of the night, it let the bond of friendship between him and Aragorn to continue in peace.


End file.
